


The Shortest Distance

by sk1m



Series: Watching the Snow Fall [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:25:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sk1m/pseuds/sk1m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Idiot.  I can easily imagine what will happen.  Altaïr Ibn-la'Ahad, greatest Assassin of time, savior of Masyaf, the lone warrior who strikes fear in the hearts of Templars, is defeated by Genghis Khan, not because of military prowess, but because of a profound lack of knowledge in geography.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shortest Distance

In Masyaf, the weather is a fickle being.  Malik has watched snow fall, bringing with it, a bitter cold.  Yet, in the very same hour, he has seen the sun peek out from behind the gray clouds.  The light is warm on his face, a welcome sensation after being whipped to and fro by the icy winds.  He sits there with his legs dangling off the side of the wall, and his one hand grips the stone tightly to keep him from falling down there.  The elements remind him of Altaïr.  Both tormented him, yet were unbelievingly breathtaking to behold.  It wasn’t the other man’s appearance, but rather how the assassin’s soul remained just as vibrant and burning since the day they first met. 

When Malik closes his eyes, he can still summon the powerful figure, back turned away from him, heading to lands beyond his comprehension.  Five years ago, Malik Al-Sayf was promoted, acting as the temporary Mentor while Altaïr left with Maria and Darim to defend freedom in the name of nations he never even seen or will know.  Malik wonders if the position is as temporary as it was when Altaïr first left.

_“Safety and peace, brother.” Altaïr’s blazing eyes held something more beyond the simple, perfunctory good-bye.  Maria is off to the side hugging Sef while Darim fidgets.  Altaïr’s first had been somewhat impatient, eager to prove himself.  However, Sef was too young and sad, trying hard not to show it.  It is before dawn, and Altaïr is eager to cover as much land as possible._

Malik recalls tracing their journey weeks before.

_“We will travel to Constantinople first and stock up on supplies.”  Altaïr is leaning over Malik’s shoulder.  He is rough, using his finger to stab at the letters.  Malik pushes Altaïr’s hand away._

_“I can see that for myself.  This is my map after all, not yours, novice,” Malik picks up a quill and begins to draw a line starting at Masyaf._

_Altaïr nods in approval.  “Draw a line to Constantinople.”_

_Malik scoffs, “and where to after, Mentor?”  Altaïr leans back and shrugs.  “We head eastward, facing the sunrise?”_

_“Idiot.  I can easily imagine what will happen.  Altaïr Ibn-la'Ahad, greatest Assassin of time, savior of Masyaf, the lone warrior who strikes fear in the hearts of Templars, is defeated by Genghis Khan, not because of military prowess, but because of a profound lack of knowledge in geography.”_

_“Hey-“  Altaïr begins to protest, but Malik stops him._

_“You should head to Trebizond by sea.  Then, stop at Tabriz and take another ship to Asterabad.  From there, the rest of journey will be on land as I know how much you are afraid of water.”  Malik connects each point quickly.  He knows the path by heart and easily recites the next part.  “Continue on through Belkh and Yarkand.  After that point, mighty Mentor, you may follow the sun towards Pekin.  I am not sure where exactly the man you are looking for will be, but that is the general location. This is one of the known routes that traders take.”_

_Malik pauses._

_Then, he whispers, “It is also the path shortest in distance.”  Between you and me, he thinks, but does not say._

_Malik sets his quill down and attempts to roll the map up.  Altaïr places his hand over Malik’s._

_“Malik…”_

_Malik stops and looks into the older man’s eyes.  “It will be a long journey, but you will come back.”  Altair gazes back._

_Whether it is in three years or thirty, you will come back._

It has been five years, and despite his best efforts, Malik cannot stop Abbas as the petty ex-guard sows seeds of discontent.  It is a storm that approaches, and Altaïr is not here to help him stop it.

But more than anything, even more important than righting the Order, Malik misses the novice.  In the rare moments he has to himself, he sits upon the high walls overlooking the hilly path leading down to the village.  He watches for three figures every day.  He searches for the brazen stride of a determined woman.  He combs the crowds for the rough, slight swagger of a growing man.  Lastly, he hopes for the sight of a great man, arrogant fool, and beloved half.

Though, today is not the day.

Malik breathes deep, soaking up the last warmth from the sun before feeling the softest touch of snow on his nose.  He awkwardly manages to stand up and takes one last look, lingering atop of the stone wall.

Then, he takes a leap of faith.

**Author's Note:**

> Snow makes me sad, but fic makes it all better. Hopefully, I'll be taking more baby steps and writing longer stories in the future. Next goal is 1000 words! Go go!
> 
> Link to the map pdf, I somewhat tried to figure out some kind of route: http://etc.usf.edu/maps/pages/2400/2473/2473.htm


End file.
